FAITH

FAITH
His head rests on my bosom
Eyes closed; My chin reclines on his scalp
Salt n’ pepper beard crowds his face
His hand stopped abruptly.
My breathe came in deep dense bursts
Sex was yet to creep in
But the eyes were bedewed with tears
He flared out “You had given yourself away to someone else”
I had nothing to say.
Bedroom or office; alleys or highways; or rundown teashops
Suspicions lurk in the city
In every breath- suspicion
My life has been spent too
Amongst Pyrrhonian poets
The seed of my anatomy was yet refused by all
All instincts of survival go into aestivation
Neither body wakes, nor poesy
And I couldn’t really articulate
The unspoken words
Take; preserve; not my anatomy
But a poet’s faith.